


Curiosity and Charm

by Chatika (salamanderssmile)



Series: In fide aeternam [6]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Sex, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, So much kissing, they finally do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamanderssmile/pseuds/Chatika
Summary: Faraam and Ornstein discover that, sometimes, love demands to be expressed in many different ways, and will not settle for less than all of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> to put it simply: this is First of All, revamped and redone. i hope you all enjoy it. it was... interesting to write it.
> 
> yes, they do fuck.

The balcony had always felt detached from reality to Faraam. The greenery, the distant and quiet noises of the main hall. It granted the whole thing a certain sense of calm. It beckoned him forth, into its silent reaches, away from all others. Well... All others but one. His faithful knight, his Ornstein. Always there when the Prince needed him, not because he was ordered, but because he wanted. It melted Faraam's heart, like the besotted fool he was. And what a long time it took for him to realize it, how desperately in love he was. Befitting, he thought, for a fool. In the distance, as he leaned against the railing, he could hear his father speaking.  


"Lord my Father's speeches would fell dragons more efficiently than thee, were he to weaponize them." Faraam said with a wide smile.   


"Thou mustn't say such things against His Lordship, Your Grace." The Golden Knight had but a ghost of a smirk on his lips, yet it was enough for his friend to know the depth of his amusement.   


"I speak but the truth, my knight." Faraam retorted, drawing out a scoff from the other. He snickered himself, couldn't help but to notice Ornstein's smile widened.   


Silence between them was not uncommon. Ornstein was never that talkative to begin with, and Faraam, when a topic ran dry, also didn't mind the quiet. Being around his knight helped the running thoughts in his head fall in line; often, he would say one aloud not expecting an answer, and with Ornstein, he never felt ashamed of it. Thus, it was a surprise to himself when nervousness crept its way up his spine, down his arms, to his hands, clenching into fists just to open once more. Faraam found himself unable to look at his friend as Gwynevere's words languidly drew themselves from his memory to speak in his mind: "If thou dost love him so, thou should'st not keep it a secret." He knew well she did not mean for him to shout at the top of his lungs about his heart's desires, but to tell him. A conversation he could not foresee starting or ending.   


"Aye, Ornstein." Faraam called, surprising himself for he didn't mean to.   


"Yes, Your Grace?" The knight's voice sounded relaxed, at peace. Faraam only heard that tone when they were alone. It soothed him.   


"Were thou and I to be together... Would'st thou wish it to be so?" The Prince inquired, voice soft, almost fearful.   


"Your Grace, I believe we are, at this moment, together." Replied Ornstein, back stiff and face expressionless as always. "Hath, perchance, my friendship abandoned thee?"   


"No! No." Faraam clenched his hands into fists, feeling as if he could start shaking with anxiety and frustration at any moment now. "I... Prithee, force'st thou not I to say it. Allow'st thou me my dignity, if not my heart."   


The sharp intake of breath told Faraam his meaning had at last been understood. He almost jumped, startled, when Ornstein abruptly drew back from the railing, standing straight and stiff before bowing.   


"I must take my leave, Your Grace."   


A dismissive wave of hand was enough to send the knight back to the main hall. For once, Faraam wished Ornstein was a bit different; if only so he could know if the knight was nervous, too.   


  


Two weeks. That night it marked two weeks since Faraam had impulsively laid his feelings bare. For two weeks, his heart teetered on the edge of fulfilment or heartbreak. He could not bear it anymore, yet could no more bring about the subject again. It hurt in a very particular way, unlike any wound he had ever suffered. It hurt as cold skin against hot metal. It hurt as Ornstein's fingers on the wounds long since scarred over from the dragon that almost killed him. It hurt exquisitely, almost pleasant at times, when Ornstein smiled or pouted or did any other such thing that was terribly endearing. He truly was a besotted fool, the Prince decided.   


They were again on the balcony when Ornstein muttered: "Your Grace?"   


"Yes?" Faraam replied immediately, more habit than anything at that point.   


"Did'st thou..." The knight hesitated, starting over again. "Dost thou truly desire what thou proposed'st?"   


"..." Faraam's silence, he knew, would be well understood. It was Ornstein, after all. "Wherefore dost thou ask such of me?"   


"Morbid curiosity, mayhap." The knight turned to the dark night sky, moon a silver scythe above them. His deflective answer frustrated the Prince, who scoffed angrily.   


"I have said afore." He muttered. "Allow'st thou me at the very least my dignity if thou refuse'st to allow me my heart."   


"Wherefore should I spare thine heart if thou dost grant me not similar treatment?" Ornstein hissed between his teeth.   


Faraam found himself taken aback. He couldn't move, much less speak, heart beating an exploding gallop in his ears. His face must have shown some glimmer of hope or happiness, because Ornstein frowned, sadly looking away from the Prince.   


"Mayhap it is punishment, then, that I should know thou love'st me so, and thou should'st know I love thee all the same..." He whispered, only loud enough for Faraam to barely hear him.   


Momentarily released from his paralysis, the Prince managed to say but one word: "Wherefore?"   


"For we cannot be together, Your Grace!" His voice was full of anguish. "Thou art a Lord, a Prince, and I am but thy knight."   


"As simply Ornstein, would'st thou not be with me, Faraam?" The taller one asked, voice full of something, everything, all he couldn't express.   


"Undoubtedly. I love thee." Ornstein did not hesitate to answer, but also continued, seemingly on the verge of tears, though only his closest friend would ever notice that. "Yet I am not simply Ornstein, and thou art much less but a Faraam. Thus, we cannot."   


Faraam turned fully to him, desperation consuming his heart, etched on his face.   


"Prithee... Ornstein, prithee..." He muttered, drawing close, feeling tears clinging to his eyelashes, not knowing what he was begging for. "Prithee..."   


"Faraam..." Formal Ornstein, saying his name, made Faraam look at his face at last. It was flooded with emotion, the first time the Prince had ever seen him so. It hurt as much as it amazed him, watching as a tear was blinked away. And then... Then Ornstein kissed him.   


The kiss lasted not for a fleeting moment nor an eternity. Wasn't too deep, nor too shallow. It was just what Faraam wanted, needed. He felt the knight's arms enlacing his neck, his lips pressed tight against one another. Ornstein’s lips were chapped and thick, even better than he could ever have imagined. His hand cupped the knight’s cheek, tilting his head further. Ornstein was the perfect height for kissing, they fit together like puzzle pieces. He felt a tongue against his lips, begging his mouth to open, a wish he granted, wholeheartedly. Faraam’s head hurt for a reason he didn't know until the knight stepped away, taking an enormous gulp of air. He couldn’t think, borderline euphoric, barely noticing his hands resting on the other’s hips until they fell to his side as Ornstein took a step back, own hands over his mouth.

"I beg thy forgiveness, Your Grace.” He said, eyes a fraction wider in shock.

“Wherefore?” Was the only thing Faraam could ask, mind still reeling from the lack of breath and the kiss.

“I should not have…” The knight moved his hand, rubbing it against his cheeks in a gesture of apprehension. “I have infringed upon Your Grace.”

“Thou hast not!” Faraam exclaimed, almost frustrated if not for the ecstatic feeling in his chest. “Can’st thou not see, my knight?”

Ornstein lifted his gaze from the floor to look at the Prince, hand still hanging, perched on his shoulder. His face was open, for once, fearful of something, maybe himself. Faraam lifted one of his hands to cup the knight’s cheek again, bringing their foreheads together.

“As thou art mine, I yearn to be thine.” His voice was but a whisper, soft and true.

“Your Grace…” Ornstein shook his head slightly, almost causing the other to step away, if not for his next word: breathy and intimate. “ _Faraam…_ ”

It beckoned the Prince forth, into a sweet kiss that promised more, so much more, so much sweeter. Ornstein leaned into it, into him, cupped the back of his head with a hand as the other wrapped around his neck once more. They parted, millimeters of distance between their lips.

“Thine every wish is an order, my Lord.”

 

Intimacy of such scale was unknown to Faraam, foreign. It was sublime. That very night, when they kissed until they couldn't breathe, two courtiers almost stumbled into them. Ornstein, formal and mindful and quick thinking, bowed before the Prince, yet, before leaving, kissed his knuckles as a parting promise. It was a gesture so simple, yet so sweet, that Faraam surprised himself with not collapsing on weak knees right there on the balcony. The very next day, in the morning, when they met for training, the knight kissed his cheek, then the corner of his lips once he assured they were alone. The kisses were endless, and always welcome. They hid in nooks and shadows to share more of them, chased empty wings of the Cathedral to simply hold hands, foreheads touching.

When others could see them, they were far more proper. Yet, there was still affection, bone deep and honest, in every move. Hidden in a touch to the crook of an elbow, or a hand on a shoulder, a whispered joke only the two would understand. Truth be told, Faraam knew that little had changed about them and their behavior, if anything at all. Their love was long lived already, and had simply encompassed a new part of itself. It meant little suspicion, on the very positive side. And the sweetness was still there, just as it had always been, Faraam realized. Though still he felt giddy whenever Ornstein would sit close to him, or kiss his fingers to bid him farewell. The physical closeness was exquisite to him.

Yet, at times, it didn't feel like enough. Because, in the end, Faraam wanted. Like a voracious beast, he hungered for more. To touch more, to feel more. At times like that, Ornstein’s scent was intoxicating, his lips were enticing, his eyes were a treasure. The Prince wanted, fingers itching to rest on the slender waist, mouth longing to kiss the other’s skin. And Ornstein knew it. Knew it because he teased, he pushed, he tread the edge of almost there time and time again, always dancing away when the fire burned too hot. Graceful and exquisite, like he was on the battlefield, and Faraam wanted him ever more. He couldn't understand why the knight acted in such a manner. Did he not want Faraam as much? Surely he trusted the Prince enough to tell him. So Faraam remained confused, relishing in every step they took in the tenuous dance.

So they met on the balcony, every night. To kiss and hold and talk like they yearned to do. And Faraam watched. Watched his beloved knight, his Ornstein. Small and cruel Ornstein, with his beauty made ethereal in the moonlight, every scar, every curve in stark relief, and Faraam wanted, wanted, wanted. Ornstein batted his eyelashes - red like his hair, red like blood - so they brushed against his freckled cheeks. And Faraam wanted. So keenly it was almost painful, for the object of his want stood right there, reminding him with smiles and kisses why he so desperately wanted. And Ornstein wanted, too, Faraam knew. Knew by the way he lingered into the kisses, the way his cheeks flushed pink, the way he leaned into the Prince as if he was the last pillar holding the sky aloft. So Faraam ran his hand over the knight’s navel, drawing out a shaking sigh before the redhead stepped back, putting barely a meter of distance between the two of them.

“My Lord,” Ornstein said before clearing his throat, which did not clear his voice from the raspy quality. “Shall I accompany thee to thy quarters?”

“Should’st thou enter them, yes.” The Prince retorted, smirking.

“My Lord…” Ornstein sighed, the dejected sound of someone resigned to something they didn't want, before taking another step back. “We cannot. Thou know’st that as well as I.”

“Prithee, Ornstein, I shall beg if need be.” Faraam said as he took a step forward himself. “I loathe to long for thee ‘till dawn bringeth thine heart back to me. Long’st thou not for me, as well?”

The knight groaned, his lips particularly downturned, as if displeased at the conflict between his brain and heart. He shook his head, tapping his foot impatiently, as if mentally fighting himself. Then he stepped forward, standing on his tiptoes to kiss a spot behind Faraam’s jaw that had his knees weak.

“Thou should’st go ahead.” Ornstein whispered in his ear. “Afore I change my mind.”

The Prince blinked owlishly, seemingly shocked at the turn of events. He quickly recovered, however, nodding vigorously and taking a convoluted path to his chambers on the other side of the great hall, going through a number of backdoors and small hallways. Behind him, he could hear the distinct clicking of the knight’s steps on the marble floors, sure and confident, fully trusting of wherever Faraam might take him. The devotion squeezed the Prince’s heart like a searing hand. For a second, he stopped mid step, turning around to offer his hand to Ornstein, who looked at it for a long time before smiling, a small and soft upturn of lips, and taking it in his. Faraam tugged it ever so slightly as he began walking again, and the knight followed, sure and true.

The doors to the Prince’s chambers opened wide with the slightest push of his hand. The knight fussed to close the door quietly, leaning against it with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. Faraam laughed at his face, gaining a frown for the indignity. He stepped forward, taking Ornstein’s face in his hand and kissing his lips, or trying to, as his smile was too wide. The knight scoffed, humorous, kissing Faraam’s nose in turn before peppering his entire face with kisses, drawing out more laughter. The Prince drew back with a sigh, watching the knight’s face for a moment. The redhead had such pretty lips, he thought as he ran his thumb over them. Such adorable freckles, he yearned to kiss them, so he did, showering the light copper cheeks and nose with feather light kisses. Ornstein sighed, drawing closer, leaning up to kiss the Prince on the lips, leaning against him. He could feel thumbs tracing the gruesome scars on his face, making them tingle, especially where lips had just brushed them.

“I love thee.” He whispered against Faraam’s lips.

“And I, thee.” Was the equally quiet answer.

They kissed again, languid and sweet, tongues entwining in a lazy dance. Slowly, they drew closer, and proximity made them more heated. Ornstein was standing on his tiptoes, pushing back into the kiss so hard the Prince thought their lips would bruise. The entire length of him pressed up against the other, his skin burning. The knight had no doubt his cheeks were colored red due to the furnace burning inside of him. Because that… that was different. Ornstein was no stranger to more torrid rendezvous; in fact, some would say he had far too much experience. And although the course of action was slightly different than the usual, the actual thing was quite similar regardless of who participated in it. Not to his heart, though, or his soul. Kissing Faraam, being against him so close, ignited within him a fire brighter than any dragon’s breath. It burned from the inside out and demanded to make its heat known. When they broke apart for breath, Ornstein unceremoniously took off his vest and shirt, blinking owlishly at the frozen stare from the Prince.

“Faraam? My Lord?” He asked, worried he had somehow stepped over an unspoken boundary he had failed to see. In the back of his mind, he feared his form, scarred from fire, would be seen as grotesque.

“It is…” Faraam swallowed heavily, taking a deep breath, eyes raking the knight up and down, wistful in the most lascivious of ways. “Nothing. I was simply… unprepared.”

“Thou art so sweet.” Ornstein replied with a chuckle, relieved “I have never been ogled so openly before. I certainly did not expect it now, after…”

“It is not a mistake I intend to make, then.” The Prince reached out with a hand, placing it softly over the knight’s chest, running it down until it settled on the shorter man’s hips, raising goosebumps in its trail. “Thou art… glorious, my dear knight.”

Ornstein could feel his cheeks dusting pink from the attention, and stepped forward, into the Prince’s personal space, to compensate. His fingers toyed with the other’s clothes, asking without words for them to be taken off as well. He batted his eyelashes, looking up through them to convince Faraam, who hastily obliged. It was then Ornstein’s turn to ogle and marvel, running his hands over chest and shoulders. He kissed the hollow of the other’s throat, then trailed more kisses over his collarbone. It was hard to keep himself from doing so, with his head leveled so perfectly for it. His lips traced lower, until he had pressed his face into the middle of the Prince’s chest, absentmindedly laying wet kisses.

“Ornstein?” He heard Faraam ask, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Yes?” His own voice was muffled as he answered.

“Art thou comfortable?” The Prince chuckled as he said that.

“Yes.” Ornstein replied before taking half a step back, feeling drunk on scent and the feeling of skin on skin.

“Mayhap thou wishest to--” Faraam words were drowned down by a kiss, more fervent than before, and Ornstein’s hands traveled down his navel in a blazing trail of unadulterated lust.

“I wish to take a sacrament, my love.” The knight murmured, slowly sinking onto his knees. “One better taken kneeling.” His hands danced over the Prince’s waistband, his lips pressing a kiss right above it. “Dost thou wish so as well?”

Unable to speak, Faraam groaned and nodded vigorously, and hoped the knight saw it, intent as he was in pressing kisses and soft bites on his navel. His brain stopped entirely when he felt a hand cusp his crotch, squeezing ever so slightly, to the point he couldn’t breathe. It was only after kissing the obvious erection through cloth that Ornstein slowly, torturously took off his boots and breeches. There Faraam stood, naked and vulnerable and breathless, so much so he wondered if there was enough air in the world to ever fill his lungs again. And Ornstein, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, made sure to leave him as such for long enough to see black creeping on the edges of his vision as the redhead took him in his mouth.

For a man so stoic, the knight surely knew what he was doing. The Prince was left reeling, sucking hissing breathes through his teeth as he grasped for something to hold onto. Ornstein was the picture of lust, an incarnate version of desire, looking up at him through heavy red lashes, mouth full and lips wet. Eventually, one of his hands guided Faraam’s own to latch onto his red hair, tussling it thoroughly. The Prince was careful not to pull, not to cause any kind of pain, not even to buck his hips - though his willpower was slowly faltering on that. He didn't know how to express the extent of his care for his knight, but he figured not hurting him would be a good start. Faraam breathed faster and faster as he felt himself close to the edge, and he didn't quite know if it was the heat, the friction, the wetness, or the sight that did him in, but he suspected a cocktail of all four. Ornstein made sure to let him ride the wave of pleasure as much as he could, licking Faraam clean if only because he could.

“I hope thou enjoyed’st thyself, my Lord.” The redhead said, standing up from his kneeling position. Faraam, who still felt numb out of pleasure, could barely answer, only groaning an affirmative as he looked at the knight. Then the realization of what Ornstein had done, beginning to very end, hit him, and he was overwhelmed by it all. Unable to stop himself, he cupped the other’s face before kissing his freckled cheeks to the point Ornstein was almost laughing. Then Faraam kissed his lips, licking into his mouth, into the new taste that was him and Ornstein put together and it made him headier than he already was.

“More than words can dream to ever describe.” Faraam replied at last, laying one last breathless kiss on the corner of his knight’s lips. And Ornstein smiled.

“Dost thou wish to lie down, my Lord?” The redhead enveloped the Prince’s waist with his arms, looking up at him, chin pressing against his chest.

“Wilt thou come with me?” He asked in turn, brushing away stray hair from the knight’s face.

“Hmm…” Ornstein hummed, closing his eyes, leaning heavily against the Prince. Looking down at him, the burn scars on his back and shoulders were easily visible. Faraam wanted to run his hands over them, soothe them. “I should not… Hmm…”

Yet, he stayed as he was, seemingly blissful to have the Prince’s hands running through his hair. Faraam slid them down his neck and back, feeling the way his muscles tensed as they trailed the scars, the way the tension changed entirely as they slipped under his breeches, fondling his behind. The Prince’s breath was hot on Ornstein’s ear as he leaned down to whisper.

“Wilt thou undress, my knight?” A simple request the redhead was quick to oblige to, stepping back for barely a few moments before pressing into the Prince again. “Why should’st thou not accompany me to bed? Dost thou wish I to be cold through the night, my sweet?”

Ornstein scoffed, humorously rolling his eyes. He pressed more forcefully against Faraam, hardness poking the other’s thigh. “I should not claim a Lord’s bed, my love.”

“Thou’st already claimed his heart. What is a bed afore such an affront to propriety?” The Prince asked with a lingering moan, desire flaming deep in his stomach once more at the reminder of their naked state.

“Hm… Thou art correct, of course, my Lord.” The knight had a cryptic look about him. More than stoic, mysterious. Even Faraam couldn't read him; it was both worrying and exhilarating. “I, a sinner, already am. What is another step into the forbidden, now?”

A shiver went up Faraam’s spine as Ornstein pushed him back, one small step at a time, towards the bed. He fell once the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, legs open around the knight’s hips. The Prince was almost shaking, shivering all over, as Ornstein climbed onto the bed, crawling above him to plant kisses on his sternum and collarbone. The redhead’s hands roamed everywhere, touching every inch of Faraam’s skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When Ornstein kissed his mouth and he felt the other’s erection against his stomach, he discovered he had never wanted so badly before in his life. He could barely focus on the kiss, making it sloppy and wet as he tried to reach all of Ornstein, touch all of him. Take him in and imprint the feeling of his skin against Faraam’s, his thundering heart echoing on the Prince’s own ribcage. He wanted, not entirely sure what, but certainly who.

“Eager, my love?” The knight asked, hint of a smile in his flushed face, eyes glassy in lust.

“I want thee. I desire thee. I--” His rant was cut short with a forceful kiss to the lips that left him breathless and dizzy.

“Prithee, I beg, believe’st thou me when I say I feel the same.” Ornstein said as he pulled back, sitting on the bed in such a way his legs were thrown over the Prince’s.

“Thou art…” Faraam started, unknowing how to describe the vision before him, of the knight, flustered and still somehow dignified, serious and lustful, and beautiful. Simply beautiful. From the traces of his body to his scars, to the freckles dotting his face and chest and shoulders. Perfect, if Faraam had his say. “Perfect.”

The knight’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, eyes a fraction wider, surprised. His Prince raised to sit as well, embracing the smaller man as his legs remained half on the mattress and half off of it. He kissed Ornstein gently, waiting to feel arms around his own chest to pull back just enough so their foreheads would be touching. He felt warm all over, as if someone had lit a fire in his heart, and it pumped boiling blood through his veins. It was an exquisite sensation to feel, especially against Ornstein, while kissing him, feeling his cock heavy against Faraam’s own. He wondered if this, too, was a product of love. The completeness he felt in that moment, entangled with his dearest knight, kissing and holding for the sake of being near each other.

Ornstein rocked his hips, pushing against Faraam’s in delirious friction. He wanted more, because his heart could not handle the endless flood of love he was feeling. He needed more because tears threatened to spill forth from the sheer strength of his emotions. Ornstein wished they would stay like that forever, entangled and together, with nothing between them. But they couldn't, so he would savor every second, every movement, as much as he could. He groaned as Faraam rocked back, locking their hips in a delicious come-and-go. Ornstein keened as the Prince took them both in hand, hand slick with precum and probably spit. He couldn't think much further beyond the sensations wracking his body. The wonderful friction of Faraam’s cock and hand. The heat between them. Ornstein kissed the Prince, lacing his hands between platinum locks of thick long hair. It was a kiss with all the finesse lacking from their previous one, though still wet and needy. Ornstein wanted, so painfully much, and he would take what was given, gladly, at any time.

The knight felt it quivering in his belly, toes twitching, before it came over him. A rushing wave of pleasure that had his skin buzzing. A sweet release from a built up tension. He felt Faraam follow him over the edge moments after. He felt breathless for an instant, burying his face in the Prince’s neck, arms locked around both their midriffs in a tight embrace. It took too long for Ornstein to notice he was crying. He didn't know why, only that the tears streamed down his face in a cascade, making damp the skin of the Prince’s shoulder. Preoccupied with not dirtying the Lord further, he pulled back, feeling the cooling come on his belly.

“Thou’rt weeping, my knight.” He heard Faraam said, voice unsteady as his would certainly be should he speak.

“So art thou, my Lord.” Ornstein smiled, looking up at his beloved’s face, which, similar to his, was tear stricken.

“Why dost thou weep, Ornstein?” The Prince asked, worried and afraid he did something wrong, as if his own crying was but a detail.

“Hah…” The knight breathed out a small laugh. “It is for the oddest of reasons.” He kissed the Prince, a slow and sweet thing that lasted just a moment. “I weep for love of thee.”

“Oh…” Faraam seemed as shocked as he was relieved, lifting a hand to caress the knight’s cheek. “I, too, weep for love. Is it a curse of lovers, Ornstein?”

“I cannot say, Faraam.” He answered, laying one of his own hands over the one on his cheek. “I have never wept as such afore.”

The Prince hummed in response, leaning forward to touch Ornstein’s forehead with his own. Slowly, he pulled them back in the bed, until they were lying, entangled still, in it. The come on their bellies was growing to be a nuisance, but neither wanted to relinquish the embrace they were locked in. Every now and then, one of them would kiss the other, sometimes on the lips, sometimes on the tip of the nose or cheeks. Regardless, each kiss guarded an immense affection that, if either man was honest, they were terrified of for its unfathomable depths. Yet, out of that very fear, was borne the wish to never be farther apart than an inch again. Biting back against the kneejerk reaction to _stay_ , Ornstein attempted to extricate himself, to rise and dress and leave. As he should, for it was not his place to sleep in a Lord’s bed; it was bad enough he soiled it. But Faraam tightened his arms, looking up at him with sad eyes still filled with tears, silently begging him to stay. Weak, weak was his heart, because he could not refuse, and laid down once more, head over the Prince’s chest as he covered them with a blanket, even as they laid over the covers. It didn't take long for Ornstein to fall asleep to the metronome rhythm of Faraam’s heart

 

He woke up to noise, someone cursing and stomping around the room. Ornstein, attempting to dress up as quick as possible, by the looks of it. Faraam rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms, trying to clear the sleep fog from his vision. Ornstein looked adorable, painted sweet golden and pink hues by the rising sun. His hair was disheveled, unlike almost every other time the Prince had seen him. His movements were sharp and precise, even though the knight had undoubtedly woken up only moment before Faraam himself. He seemed unhindered by any sleep lethargy. Ornstein blinked owlishly when he heard the Prince giggle at his attempts at dressing his boots hastily, which were comprised of a significant amount of failures.

“What is it, Faraam?” He asked, seemingly offended.

“Thou’rt so worried, so early, Ornstein.” Was the answer, said through a wide smile that soon waned into a sad frown. “Must thou leave so soon, my love?”

“Yes, my Lord, I must.” The knight said with a serious face as he walked towards the side of the bed, where Faraam still lay in an obscene display. Ornstein’s cheeks dusted pink as he gave a small smile. “But… I shall make haste to return.”

“I shall eagerly await thee, then, my knight.” Faraam replied, cupping the man’s cheek and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

He watched Ornstein leave with a smile, but wished, from the deepest reach of his heart, that that moment never had had to pass. His stomach churned at how unfair it was that the Golden Knight had to leave at all. A sigh escaped his lungs, however, a sweet, wistful little thing, borne of affection and longing. And as the sun illuminated the room further, all Faraam could think was that he wished it had never risen at all.


	2. Bonus Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One time is not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it says on the tin, babes, a bonus chapter for my fellow nasties.
> 
> also im alive and promise part 7 before the end of the year. sorry. peace.

Ornstein writhed and whined, toes curling on silky sheets as he grabbed handfuls of platinum hair. He was not far gone enough to beg, but his thighs shook with the effort of not bucking his hips into the delicious heat around his cock. He pulled on the hair in his hands and received a disgruntled groan in response, forcing him to ease the tension in his fingers, only for it to coil in his stomach. It was most displeasing when Faraam pulled up to breathe, and Ornstein made certain the Prince knew so. But then he licked a wet stripe up the knight’s cock once more before taking him in his mouth again and the redhead sunk into the mattress in pleasure. When he came, it was with little warning, if any at all, smearing the Prince’s face when he pulled up, surprised. With a huff of laughter, Ornstein leaned over and cleaned him with a corner of the sheet.

“Was it to thy liking, my knight?” The question seemed innocent enough, not given context. Ornstein smiled, stretching like a cat as Faraam climbed over his body so they were face to face.

“It was most pleasing. But,” He said, “thou dost still have much to learn.”

“Oh, do I?” The Prince replied, planting a kiss on Ornstein’s lips and smiling. “I can only hope to be apprenticed by a skilled master.”

“Thine every wish is an order, my Lord.” The knight said, gracefully flipping them over so he was on top, immediately starting a trail of kisses down the other’s chest and navel. He stopped once he reached Faraam’s cock, diverting his attention to inner thighs and nibbling the skin at his hips. The Prince remained stoic, though tremors coursed through his body, raising goosebumps. His intakes of breath were shaky when Ornstein finally licked a stripe up his cock, tip of the tongue twirling around the head, drawing out a heavy groan from the Prince. He took just the tip into his mouth before licking another stripe, finding a steady rhythm that had Faraam almost thrashing about, bucking into the air. At last, Ornstein took him fully into his mouth, down to the hilt, a feat the Prince was still trying, and failing, to replicate. The knight held down the other’s hips, stopping him from thrusting down his throat.

When he felt Faraam tensing up, he pulled up, leaving the Prince unattended entirely as Ornstein rested his chin on a hand. “Is this to thy liking, my Lord?”

“Prithee, Ornstein, this is torture…” Faraam whined, a little red in the face.

That brought out a quick laugh from the knight, who, delighted, traced gentle circles in the other’s navel with his free hand. “Of course not, my dear. Torture maketh thee beg.”

With that, he tenderly kissed the sensitive skin where Faraam’s legs met his crotch, seemingly oblivious to the Prince’s pleas.

“Torture maketh thee writhe.” Ornstein continued, taking the Prince in hand as he looked up, almost grinning by his standards, to see Faraam doing his best to not contort in pleasure.

“And torture maketh thee scream.” He said at last, taking the other back in his mouth, sinking to the hilt, swallowing around him. Still looking up, he saw the Prince cover his own face with a pillow, muffling a shout.

Once he had swallowed the evidence of what had transpired, Ornstein crawled up Faraam’s body, resting his chin on folded arms over the Prince’s chest.

“On second thoughts, mayhap it is torture, indeed.” He said with a small upturn of lips.

“I do not think myself able to move.” The Prince had an arm thrown over his eyes while the other was under the pillow previously covering his face.

“Worrie’st thou not, my love, this is my part, after all.” The knight said, stretching like a feline over Faraam, rolling off of him and the bed, landing on his feet silently. Naked, he rummaged through a dresser’s top drawer before he felt the heat of another body pressed against his back. “Thou art moving.” His voice was low and gravelly.

“It is hard not to, with such a view…” Faraam replied, hands traveling up and down his lover’s torso. “Thou art… so very stunning.”

“Hmmm.” Ornstein hummed, leaning back against the Prince, scarred skin tingling. “Thou art a flatterer. I am a heap of scars, my Lord.”

“Proof of thy tenacity, love.” Faraam pressed his lips to the smaller man’s cheek, tracing languid kisses over his jaw until he bit his earlobe, whispering into his ear: “Allow’st thou me to take thee, for once, my love?”

“Hm?” Ornstein let a curious noise escape his throat, eyes heavy lidded and lips curled slightly upwards in a smile. “Why should I?”

“For thou art…” Faraam kissed down the knight’s neck and shoulder, lacing their fingers together so as to continue the trail up his freckled arm. “... my knight.”

“Not here.” The redhead sighed, free hand running over the other’s thigh. “Here we are simply in love.”

The words stole the breath from the Prince’s lungs, grin creeping over his lips as they pressed against the back of Ornstein’s hand. “Then for I so desire, if thou art so kind?”

“Mayhap.” The knight turned around in Faraam’s embrace, standing face to face with him. “I have taken on… bigger opponents, after all.”

The taller man’s eyebrows raised comically high, cheeks tinging red at the heavy lidded, sly smile in Ornstein’s face. A smile that dared him to ask what such “opponents” were, and just how big they were. He scoffed, growing redder and redder the more he thought about it, diverting his gaze from those amber eyes to the wall.

“I have but one request of thee, then, if such is thy desire.” Wide eyed, Faraam’s head whipped back to face his knight, nodding eagerly, whole body tingling at the idea. “As I am a Lion, thou art the Eagle. So thou art to be so kind… as to watch.”

Slightly confused and entirely too excited, The Prince agreed, bending down to kiss Ornstein on the lips. It was not a quick kiss. It was slow and passionate, all tongue and teeth, full of moans and fueled by the heat building between them. With the small knight in his arms, Faraam felt as if on top of the world. High on the feeling of loving and being loved, he was surprised his feet were still touching the floor, and not floating above it in some miraculous feat of sheer happiness. It was hard to focus when they were tangled as they were, skin on skin, and so much heat seemed to ooze off them.

Ornstein drew back first, breathing heavily, but seeming extremely satisfied. Faraam wanted to pull him back in, kiss him more, until they were red in the face and seeing black from forgetting to breathe. But the redhead had other plans, picking a bottle from the drawer he was previously rummaging, and pushing Faraam towards the bed. The Prince fell heavily onto the mattress and disheveled sheets, dragging himself backwards to sit with his back against the pillows, mesmerized by the view of Ornstein, gloriously naked, sitting on his thighs. The knight lifted himself into a kneeling position, and Faraam could only watch, heat pooled in his chest, melting down his entrails into his stomach, brain drowning in lust, as Ornstein coated his fingers in oil and reached back behind himself, pushing one inside.

Slowly, painfully slow, even, and stopping every time Faraam so much as made a move to touch him, Ornstein opened himself undone. His expression remained of heavy lidded impassiveness, but red crept from his face down to his chest, and his breathing came labored. His thighs were shaking from the effort, but his gaze was unwavering, pinning Faraam down under dark amber. Both of them, it took the Prince a moment too long to notice, were painfully hard - again, which honestly should be surprising, but he was so addled by desire he wasn't surprised at all. He wanted, every time they did it, he wanted more. More intensely, more fiercely. He had no comparison for it, nothing to put against the immeasurable desire he felt. He never wanted to let his knight go.

His heated thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Ornstein finally, blessedly, touched him, coating his cock in oil as well, pumping him a couple of times for good measure. Distantly, Faraam could hear himself mewling, desperate for more, more, more. Wanting to touch and mark, but having promised not to, hands gripping the sheets so tightly they threatened to rip. And then Ornstein was descending on him, slow and steady, eyes closed and a small blissful smile gracing his scarred face. The view was the picture of lust, of beauty, of love to Faraam, who felt his chest grow impossibly tight before he realized he was forgetting to breathe. He could feel his pulse on the tip of his fingers as the knight started to ride him, still slow, still patient, as if his whole body didn't threaten to combust spontaneously. Dizzy, Faraam wondered if there ever was something more attractive than the man in front of him, in that moment in time, or if he really was blessed by the First Flame to witness such.

Ornstein braced himself on the Prince’s chest as he quickened the pace, panting. With wild eyes, shining in a desperation Faraam had never before seen in them, the knight asked in a rough voice: “Prithee, my love, wilt thou touch me?”

Desperate as a drowning man clings to what keeps him afloat, Faraam wholeheartedly humored the knight’s wishes, pulling him close until they were touching foreheads, breathing heavy against each other’s mouth. They kissed, a sloppy gesture, wet and hot and not enough. They ran their hands over every inch of skin they could reach, scratching red marks into shoulders and arms. Somehow they were sideways on the bed, both pulling and pushing in the effort of chasing pleasure and closeness. And then they were drowning shouts in each other’s mouths and necks. Ornstein’s hand joined Faraam where it lay between them, pumping the smaller man’s cock in a broken, stuttering rhythm. They came, separate, but not by much, pulling each other infinitely closer, until it was hard to see where one ended and another began. And for that moment, maybe they really were just one. Slowly, they managed to breathe again, to feel their extremities, to open their eyes and speak.

“I… Hmm…” Ornstein found himself at a loss for words, feeling as if even his brain was numb.

“Aye.” Faraam nodded solemnly, agreeing with the sentiment in Ornstein’s attempt to speak.

They locked eyes, mouths slowly upturning in grins, and then they were laughing; Ornstein, ever quietly, and Faraam a laughter that came from his belly, full and happy. They weren't sure what they were laughing about: the desperation they felt, the surprisingly well handled change of roles, the simple fact they were happy. They didn't care.

Once their snickering had calmed down, Ornstein buried his face on the Prince’s chest, taking a deep breath before saying: “I believe I have discovered what I truly adore.”

“Oh? Is it being--” Before Faraam could finish the sentence, Ornstein lightly kissed him on the lips to shut him up.

“Thee.” Faraam blinked wide eyes at the loving gaze his knight directed at him, heart feeling too big for his chest. “All of thee. I would miss every inch, shouldst thou ever leave me.”

The care in his voice was almost enough to make the Prince start crying as he pushed their foreheads together once more. “I shall never leave. Not thee.”

“I trust thee, then.” Ornstein sighed, fingers lacing with his beloved’s, heart tight in his chest.

After all, his trust did not come easy, and Faraam had most of it.

**Author's Note:**

> im soooooo sorry for everyone who has been awaiting an update to this series for a while. i just lost my writing mood during vacations and now im slowly getting back to it. hopefully, i'll be bringing more content a little more regularly. thank you all for reading this, i appreciate it and its antecessor, too. i appreciate it immensely. you guys are the main reason i keep on writing.


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